


The Best Present

by KissingWinchesters



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissingWinchesters/pseuds/KissingWinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a few too many drinks for Sam's birthday and let's his guard down. Luckily, Sam doesn't seem to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merakieros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merakieros/gifts).



Ok. Waking up naked with your little brothers face nestled in your pubic hair is, lets just say, a shock.

Dean almost laughed. He didn’t though. No, he was too busy freaking the fuck out.

You see, Dean. He’s in love with his brother. Madly, deeply, all the sappy love song cliches that you can think of, gut wrenchingly, heart stoppingly, soul consuming…ly (you get the picture) in L.O.V.E.

It was a problem, but misery was part of the very fabric of Dean’s life - hell, it was practically a fucking blanket - so like with everything else, Dean wore a very realistic ‘everything’s fine’ mask at all times.

Dean had rules to keep the bad things in life in control. Don’t let on that the only person you have and will ever truly love is one Sam Winchester is right up there at the top. Right next to the one about resisting bending Sam over the hood of the Impala.

Sure, Sam knows that Dean loves him, just maybe not in the ‘I wanna wrap my legs around your waist’ kind of way.

Breaking these rules would mean that Dean would lose everything. He would lose his Sammy. And that was just… no.

And here is the part where we go back in time… about ooooh seven or so hours.

***

“Stop giggling in my hair, Dean! It tickles!”

“Sam, you giant monkey. I-I have to hair in your giggle… No the other way around…” Dean giggled, a very manly giggle, and Sam rolled his eyes. “You would fall in a big Sasquatch heap if I let you go. I’m the thing… the one propping you up, bitch.”

“Hmm, jerk! Remember we aaaalways said that as kids. That’s good, huh? Means we were buds, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean slurred, fumbling in his pocket for the key to their motel room. “We were like Batman and his annoying kid brother Robin.”

“Yeah…” Sam smiled. “Hey!”

Dean chuckled as he finally managed to get the door unlocked a crack. Using the toe of his boot he kicked it wide open and adjusted his grip on Sam. His right hand was curled firmly around the sharp jut of Sam’s hip while the other, fingers starlike, were spread firmly against Sam’s chest.

Too much whiskey may have slowed Dean’s thoughts, but the cool night air must have cleared the fog enough for him too recognise when he was too close. The body pressed so tightly, so perfectly against his was not meant to be there, like the constantly missing puzzle piece of Dean’s heart.

“Damn it, Sam! Walk on your own jolly green legs, would you?!”

“You have to walk me or I will fall down! You said so!” Sam pressed his face into Dean’s neck and then poked a finger into Dean’s belly. “You are my camel and I am Laurence of Alabia.”

Dean groaned and shuffled his brother the last few feet towards his bed, throwing him down like a sack of potatoes. Apparently Sam thought that was hilarious.

“I just said Alabia, Dean. You have to find that funny. And not funny peculiar… funny har har. That kind of funny. Dean, tell me a dirty joke. I can take it… I’m all grown up now! It’s my birthday yesterday. Twenty fucking six…”

“Seven.”

“Seven, right, and here I am, with my brother, in our pretend house and… why don’t I salt the door, De, and you can have a shower and then… shhh, go to sleep?”

Dean shook his head and watched as Sam flailed around on the bed like a fish stuck on the sand, trying to get comfortable.

“I want to sleep so much, but my eyes itch. Come look if there’s something in them.” 

Sam half sat up on his elbows and beckoned Dean over with a smooth tilt of the head.

“There’s nothing in your eyes. Watch some tv and calm down, would you?”

“You sound a lot less drunk than me, big brother.” Sam rolled off the bed and loomed over Dean, peering into his eyes curiously. 

“Oh, I’m plenty drunk.”

“Prove it. Walk in a non-straight line then. If you can.” Sam punctuated each word of the last sentence with tap-tap-tap on Dean’s nose.

“Get off!”

“Hmmm, I smell a chicken,” Sam sniggered and stumbled backward until he was sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed.

“Fine, watch this.” Dean removed his boots, because… well it just felt right, and positioned himself against the door of the bathroom.

“If you can walk in a straight line to…” Sam looked down at his feet and then grinned at Dean, “…this spot here, I will buy your breakfast tomorrow and promise to eat the same as what you order even if my arteries will be clogged and my blood will turn to grease.”

“Mistake, Sammy.” Dean lined himself up and narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the spot he was aiming for. “Huge mistake.”

He walked, swaying a little - but it wasn’t like Dean couldn’t handle his booze - and he made his way across the room without straying from the invisible battle line drawn on the purply coloured carpet.

“Oh, Sammy, you are the only loser in the room! How do you feel?”

Sam snorted and looked up at his brother through his hair.

“You’re still the loser, Dean. It’s my birthday so I can’t lose. In fact…” Sam grabbed Dean around the waist, tugging him down onto the bed and tickling him in the ribs and under his armpits.

“Stop it, Sam! I mean it… I’ll kick your ass!”

Dean didn’t though. He laughed and tickled Sam back, gleeful in the knowledge that back when Sam was growing up he could make Sam cry by tickling him. He knew all about his weak spots.

“You’re asking for this,” Dean snarled, grabbing Sam’s wrists and yanking them above his head, holding them tight while worming his free hand down Sam’s stomach.

“No, Dean… stop…” Sam gasped, but he was grinning too and wriggling. Dean thought he was thrusting too, just for a split second, but no that couldn’t be right. Then again, he was distantly aware that he was straddling Sam, his thighs pressed tightly to Sam’s hips, so he guessed anything was possible.

“Always starting fights you can’t win. Always gonna be a rookie, Sammy.”

Dean started in on Sam’s sides, right where Sam was most sensitive.

“Aaah, s-stop it!”

Sam wriggled harder so Dean pressed against him, tightening his thighs and oh fuck now that felt so good.

“Dean? What did I do?” Sam frowned, watching with wide eyes as Dean crawled off him and stumbled away. “We were having fun. We never get to to that anymore… Did I…”

“You didn’t do anything, ok,” Dean said. He ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply, suddenly needing more alcohol. “How about another drink, Sammy?”

“For the birthday boy?” Sam sat up. He was trembling.

“It’s after midnight, Sam. Birthdays over.” Dean poured a couple of glasses of Jack Daniels and strolled back over to his brother, bottle tucked under his arm.

They sat quietly for a long time, drinking and breathing. Sam would sometimes bump his knee against Dean’s and Dean would elbow Sam in the arm.

“Hey, Dean? Wanna play Kiss or Kill?”

“Wha…?”

Sam scooted closer, propping his chin on Dean’s shoulder.

“Y’know, that game we made up when Dad… um, left us in Kansas that time when he… went hunting something… A wendigo?”

Dean smiled. It was a stupid thing they’d made up to pass the time. Taking names of hot famous people and testing if the other would rather kiss them as some sort of monster or kill them if they weren’t worth the effort.

“Oh, right… go on then.”

“Can we lie down? Rooms spinning.”

“Sure, Sam.” 

Dean leaned back, his head hitting the pillow, and all the pent up tension from before melted into the sheets.

“Right… vampire Megan Fox. Kiss or Kill?”

“Uh, kill,” Dean said, scrunching up his nose. “Not a fan.”

“Really? T-thought you’d go for her?”

“Nah. Ask again.”

Sam thought for a second and then snapped his fingers.

“Shifter Jen Aniston. Kiss or Kill?” Sam edged closer, drawn by the warmth radiating off Dean’s body.

“I, uh,” Dean chuckled. “Kiss, I guess.”

“You guess? You’re not playing properly are you?”

Sam leaned up over Dean and looked down at him.

“Too drunk,” Dean smiled and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, me too.” Sam lay back down, turning on his side and putting one hand under his cheek. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“What about demon… me? Ha, um… Kiss or Kill?”

“Very funny, Sammy. You’re definitely cut off for tonight, whiskey Joe.”

Dean tried to get up, roll off the bed, flee to the bathroom, but Sam was on top of him, tugging at the collar of his shirt and panting against Dean’s lips. When did that happen, Dean thought blearily.

He laughed and tried to push Sam away, but Sam was mumbling and saying confusing things about ‘want’ and ‘need’ and Dean was too drunk to follow his own rules anymore. He caught Sam’s bottom lip between his teeth and took hold of Sam’s face with both hands.

“You… Sam. I shouldn’t… but it’s you, course it’s Kiss… always wanted… so much…”

“Dean, Dean,” Sam panted. He had pulled off his shirt and t-shirt at some point, Dean never saw when. “Take your jeans off.”

“Oh, right…” Dean rolled them over, ungracefully kneeing Sam in the gut. “Want to see you too.”

Sam was already two steps ahead, jeans and boxers pulled down to mid thigh. 

“Touch me, Dean. Make me come… been hard all night… just thinking about you… please let me have this tonight. Don’t be mad at me, please.”

Sam didn’t wait for Dean to answer, he just shoved the waistband of Dean’s half open jeans down. 

“Oh god, l need this Sam… killing me…” Dean licked his palm and took Sam’s cock in a firm grip, squeezing around it until Sam arched up, spreading precome into Dean’s skin.

“Yes, ah, yeah… more, please…” Sam groaned loudly. “So close, Dean.”

Something in Dean’s head was telling him to stop before it was too late. He was going to regret this. But then…

“Oh, oh fuck, I’m going to… gonna come, ah, yeah…” Sam thrust into the hollow of Dean’s hand and came over his fingers with a broken cry of his brothers name.

It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

He held onto Sam until his breathing slowed and then let his softening cock fall limp and sticky against Sam’s leg.

“Got to taste you,” Sam announced, forcing Dean onto his back and pressing his lips to the head of Dean’s cock. 

Dean couldn’t breathe except to moan Sam’s name, couldn’t move except to tangle his fingers into Sam’s hair. It was ecstasy! Sam’s mouth, so hot and wet, so obviously inexperienced, but son of a bitch if it wasn’t the best thing Dean had ever felt wrapped around his dick.

“Sam, you gotta… your hand… ah, Sam.” Dean tried to warn Sam, tried to pull his head away, but that just made Sam suck harder, the flat slide of his tongue sending Dean over the edge.

Dean opened his eyes as he came. He could see Sam swallowing, his eyes rolling back, the sweat on his brow. It was the last thing he saw before passing out.

***

Back to the here and now. Dean is still freaking out of course, but now y’all know why. Rules - broken. Mask - slipped. Sammy - gone?

It was inevitable. Sam wouldn’t want to stay knowing what kind of man Dean really was and Dean couldn’t even pretend anymore.

Not when Sam’s mouth was so… so fucking open and so close… Oh shit, lil Dean was very much awake and in the land of Morningwood.

Dean pushed Sam away from his groin, fucking trust Sam to fall asleep there, and promptly fell off the bed. He hit his head on the floor.

Oh, right… Dean remembered his hangover now. Awesome.

“Dean… why are you down there? You fall?” Sam’s face appeared over the edge of the bed, eyes blinking in the light.

Dean froze, buck naked on the floor like a fucking jay bird. Naked as a jay bird… what’s the deal with that phrase? Dean shook his head. Wrong move.

“Aww, fuck.” The fierce pounding - surely his brain had come loose or something -made Dean want to throw up.

“Can you get up?”

Dean shrugged.

“I’m coming down then. Shove over.”

Sam dragged the covers of the bed and slipped down next to Dean.

It really was not what Dean had been expecting. A punch in the face. Yeah. The sight of Sam’s back as he marched out the door. A definite yes.

“We are going to talk about this later, Dean,” Sam said, his own voice sounding strained. “But, I want to sleep of this headache first and you aren’t going anywhere. Is that clear?”

Ok, so lil Dean really liked dominant Sam. A lot. Big Dean did too.

“Are we? I mean… Last night, I…” Dean tensed.

“We… not I. There were two of us there. You and me.”

Dean nodded, there wasn’t much else he was capable of if he was honest, and even that hurt.

But if the satisfying weight of Sam’s leg slipping between his own or the gentle touch of his lips against Dean’s cheek were anything to go by, then Dean knew one thing for sure. 

He and Sam were going to get drunk together a lot more often.


End file.
